I've Loved You For A Thousand Years, I'll Love You For A Thousand More
by RanebowStitches
Summary: "Again and again, he found his love; sometimes they'd be together and sometimes they wouldn't." Wrench trades his hearing for immortality and follows Numbers' reincarnations through time, waiting for the perfect moment to share his gift with him.


Hello!

So this is based on a couple things: the song "A Thousand Years" by Christina Perri and a post on tumblr that began with "An immortal being has the ability to share their power with one soul and make them immortal too, so they can have a companion for all the years if they choose."

Enjoy~

Shoutout to my friend Milarca (on ao3 and tumblr) for betaing for me. She keeps my writing in line and in the right tense.

* * *

The cave sat at the base of the mountain, just as the stories had told. The full moonlight revealed it despite the mouth being almost hidden beneath plant growth. The man pushed the vines away and descended into the darkness. The farther he went, the more he regretted his decision to come here. The stories were probably false. He was just going to get lost in this cave and die like the others who had attempted the same feat. Was immortality worth this?

He scoffed to himself.

Of course it was.

After miles of walking, he finally found himself in a small cavern lit by the moonlight shining through a hole in the rock ceiling. A shallow pool of water lay still under it. A stone statue of a maiden gazing up at the moon stood in the middle. This was it. He stepped forward to the edge of the pool, taking a deep breath. Kneeling, he lay a handful of white and yellow flowers onto the water and watched them float gently on the surface. Narcissus he was told was their name. She loved Narcissus.

Moments passed and nothing happened. He pushed at one of the flowers. It floated farther away, but nothing more. He sighed. A soft wind blew over his face. Was it all for naught?

"It really was just stories," he mumbled softly.

"Stories…"

He gasped. Did he just hear someone speak? Or was it the wind again? The small room held no one else but him but he called out anyway.

"Hello?"

"Hello…" a soft voice answered, as if seeping from the walls. He turned and looked about him but saw no one.

"Who are you?" he called.

"Who are you ?" the voice answered.

"M-my name is Wytheas," he said, looking back at the statue in the pool. It was the only other human shape in the vicinity. It made him feel a little more sane talking to it instead of the cave itself. "I—I heard tales that the goddess who resides here can grant a gift. The gift of immortality."

"Immortality…" the voice sighed.

He waited for more. Waited to hear the rules or the price as there always was with these things. The stories he heard never specified exactly what you had to give up for the ability to live forever, but surely it wasn't free.

He waited. Nothing came.

He cleared his throat.

"Um, may I ask; what is the price for this gift?" As the words left his mouth he felt the air grow energized. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, and he shuddered.

"The price!" the voice called out, loud and solid, knocking him back in surprise. "The price! The price for this gift!" The voice grew louder and louder. The walls vibrated. Ripples spread over the pool. He had to throw his hands over his ears to stop them from bursting. "The price!" He felt engulfed by the voice, the ground shaking roughly beneath him. Oh, gods, what he done? Had he said something wrong?

"Please! Whatever it is, I will pay it! Just tell me what you want!" he yelled out as he fell to his knees at the edge of the pool. Just like that, the quaking stopped. The voice fell silent. He dropped his hands from his ears hesitantly, panting. He gazed up at the statue in the pool. She gazed back at him and he gasped.

With graceful movements, as if she were made of flesh, the statue walked towards him. Her footsteps on the pool made small ripples as she seemed to glide over the top of it. She stopped in front of him and he bowed his head. He felt a gentle touch on his head, the cool feel of stone slowly moving to his cheek and coaxing his face up to look into the statue's eyes. They shimmered in the moonlight.

"The price…" she spoke softly without opening her mouth. Her hands moved down to cup his ears. He shivered at her touch, but didn't understand.

Furrowing his eyebrows, he said, "I don't understand."

"Understand…" She tapped his ears. "Understand… the price..." She covered his ears, blocking out all sound. A minute passed. She watched his eyes swim with confusion, until, finally, he got it.

"Oh," he breathed. "My hearing." The statue nodded, seeming pleased. Would an eternal life be worth it if he couldn't hear any of it? Life without the sound of laughter. Without the sound of music. Without the sound of his lover's voice. Was it worth giving all of that up?

He smiled. Of course it was. "Take it," he said.

The statue leaned over and placed her forehead against his. He sighed at the coolness of it and closed his eyes. This was it. He waited for the feeling of… something. A bolt of lightning shooting through his body, perhaps. His skin on fire maybe. Even just a tingle. But, there was nothing.

The statue stood back up and released his ears from her grip. His eyes flew open. "Was that it—" he cut himself off with a gasp. He couldn't hear his own voice. It was done. The price had been paid. The statue raised her hands up and began moving them around her face and body and he realized that he could understand her.

" _You have received my gift, and I have received your payment_ ," she signed. " _I have also bestowed upon you the ability to share your gift with one person of your choosing, free of charge to them._ "

" _Thank you_ ," he signed back, his hands knowing the words like they had spoken it his whole life. " _Thank you so much, my lady. I am curious though, can I ask why? What did I do to deserve this extra gift?_ "

The statue smiled and patted him softly on the cheek before turning and walking back towards the middle of the pool. She crouched and picked up one of the flowers that still floated upon the water's surface. She twirled it in her fingers as she signed to him, " _You brought me flowers._ " And with that, she took her pose, gazing up at the moon, the flower clutched in her hand.

...

Wytheas didn't have anyone to share his gift with. He had no family, no lover, no close friends. So he decided to save it. After all, he had a surplus of time to find someone.

...

Much to his surprise, it only took about a hundred years until he found the one. His name was Ganymede, and he was beautiful. They had locked eyes across the symposium, drawn to each other like moths to a flame.

Ganymede didn't know sign language but they passed a writing tablet back and forth for hours that night. As the weeks went on, he learnt the signs, and soon they could have full conversations with only their hands. No one else that Wytheas had met since he received his gift had put in the effort that Ganymede did. He loved him, and he knew he was loved back. It was like he had found a piece of his heart he didn't know was missing. He knew this soul was the one he'd spend eternity with.

But there was unrest in their city. Athens and Sparta were going to war, and as a soldier, that meant so was Ganymede. He promised he'd come back from the war again and again.

He did not.

...

The years passed and Wytheas watched the old rulers fall and the new ones conquer. He changed his name as was needed, and continued living.

He enjoyed his gift for the most part, but some nights he would cry and call it a curse. He'd beg the gods to kill him as sorrow ripped through his heart at the memory of his lost love. The gods stayed silent. They had been renamed and could not answer his calls.

...

He was in Italy, going by the name Westo, when he saw a familiar pair of eyes. At first he thought it was just the light playing a trick on him, but he looked again and almost threw his heart up. It was him . He was just as beautiful as before. Same dark hair, beard, and mischievous eyes. Same perfect soul that tugged at Westo's with a dire need.

He stood on the opposite side of the street, looking into the window of a cafe, but as he turned, they locked eyes. His love made his way to him as coyly as possible, and Westo couldn't help the smile that spread across his face.

The man introduced himself as Gabriele and when Westo replied in sign, he barely batted an eye. _Do we know each other?_ Gabriele asked with his hands. Westo grinned and could feel the tears at the corners of his eyes.

 _No. Would you like to?_

 _Absolutely._

Gabriele was a painter. He was usually busy painting commissions for the wealthy, but his favorite thing to paint in his free time was Westo, who kept every single painting.

Unfortunately, Westo never found the perfect moment to explain his gift and bestow Gabriele's upon him. A plague swept through Italy and stole Gabriele away in the night. There are no words to describe the amount of heartache and despair that racked through Westo. Once again, his soul mate had been taken from him.

...

It would take a few hundred years for him to find his love again, in France, only to lose him to Napoleon's revolution. Then, he found him only half a century later in Britain, but his love was married already, and he didn't have the heart to steal him away from his beautiful wife.

As he entered the new century, he moved across the ocean to America. He found his love there as a child, and then again as an elder, and then again as a woman (again married and with children of her own). When he went back overseas to fight in the war, he found his love behind the barbed wire fence of a concentration camp.

Again and again, he found his love; sometimes they'd be together and sometimes they wouldn't. Each time, he'd lose him before he could share his gift. Try as he might, he couldn't bring himself to share it until the right moment, afraid he would scare his love away if he told him too soon.

Yet, each time he lost him, it hurt just as much as the first time. Each time it chipped away at his core more and more. Each time he felt himself losing his grip and begging for the icy grip of death.

...

 _Partner?_

"Dead."

...

It was about a decade after the Fargo incident. A blink in Wesley's eye. He had wallowed the years away, consumed in his grief. He couldn't stop thinking about the conversation that they had had before going to that snowy wasteland. They were going to do the Fargo job and then retire, settle down, and Wes was going to give Grady his gift. Out of all the lives he had lived, this one had felt the most _right_. And yet, fate was cruel once again.

He looked down at the water below him and rubbed the heel of his shoe on the edge of the bridge. He'd never actually attempted to kill himself before. Didn't ever think it would work. He had gotten hurt loads of times, sure, but he always healed no matter the wound. But what if the impact was fatal right at the beginning. Would it be enough?

"Hey! Hey buddy!"

Wes replayed the lives he'd lived in his head. He was thankful for the brief moments of happiness that he had gotten to spend with his love. He was thankful that he got to watch the world change around him. The people more or less stayed the same, but watching the skylines grow had been amazing. Yet, no matter how beautiful the world was, it was ugly to him without Grady in it. Not for the first time, he swore at the goddess who gave him his _curse_ , knowing full well he'd only gotten what he'd asked for.

"Hey! What are you, deaf, man? Don't jump!"

Wes lifted one foot and dangled it over the edge, ready to plummet. The dark water roiled below him. Well, this was it. Maybe.

He gasped as he found himself falling backwards instead of forwards. There were hands on him, steadying him and moving him away from the edge. He turned and froze in shock. Eyes he knew so well were staring up at him in concern.

"Man, it's not worth it! You got your whole life ahead of you! Trust me it's—" Grady's mouth was moving too fast for Wes to read his lips, and the tears in his eyes were obscuring his vision anyway. Wesley engulfed Grady into his arms, sobbing and laughing on his shoulder. This man's beard was shorter, and his hair was longer, but he looked almost the exact same as his last reincarnation. Wes couldn't believe how fast he had reconnected with him and took it as a good sign.

This time he was not going to let him get away. He was not going to wait. Grady had saved him for a reason, and Wesley was going to ask him to join him in eternal life as soon as possible... but first he needed to stop hugging him and introduce himself.

Wes pulled back from the man he knew most recently by the name Grady Numbers. He signed a, " _thank you_ ," at him and tried to introduce himself.

The man smiled nervously at him, not quite sure what to think about being bear hugged and cried on, but he was glad the man wasn't at the bottom of the river. Grady watched the man's hands fluttering around and he shrugged, smiling sadly.

"Heh, I don't know ASL. Sorry," he explained, speaking slow. Wes just nodded. That was ok. He would learn.

"Do you want help getting home? You can come to my place if you want," Grady offered. "I just don't want you trying to jump off any more bridges."

Wes laughed and nodded. Grady beamed and started to lead the way.

"Hey, have we met before?" he asked as they walked. Wesley laughed again.

" _Many times_."

* * *

Thanks for reading! Let me know if you liked it!

Also, let me know if you guessed who the goddess was at the beginning~


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